St. Nicholas/Volume 32/Number 3/Dutchy

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St. Nicholas, Volume 32, Number 3 (1905)
edited by Mary Mapes Dodge
The Triumph of “Dutchy.” by J. Sherman Potter
4100139St. Nicholas, Volume 32, Number 3 — The Triumph of “Dutchy.”J. Sherman Potter

The Triumph of “Dutchy.”


By J. Sherman Porter.


His whole name was Hendrik van Gelder Schmitt, but as the pupils of the Conrad High School found that too much for their unaccustomed tongues, he was called “Dutchy” for short, and this title he bore throughout his whole sojourn in the school. This was his first year at Conrad, but he had had a good training in a Canadian high school before he came to the States, and as a result was put in the senior class. Here he became the chief source of amusement for the pupils, and at times even for the teachers. His faulty English and the frequent fun-poking of the pupils were often the occasions of outbursts of Anglo-Dutch which sent the class into convulsions of uncontrollable laughter. Still, he was an excellent scholar, and showed such good judgment in all questions of weighty importance in school matters that before he had been there two months he was unanimously elected the vice-president of the senior class and was defeated in the competition for presidency by only a few votes.

With the close of the foot-ball season that of hockey began, and it was not long before the ice-rinks were covered with pupils trying to make the team.

“Vat are de rules for playing dis game?” asked Dutchy one afternoon while watching the players driving the puck across the ice.

“Oh, you can’t trip anybody up, nor hold any one, nor get offside. But you can shove with your shoulders all you want in a scrimmage.”

Dutchy had spent several winters in Holland before he came to America, and was considered there a good skater. He improved his ability in that direction while in Canada, and now he resolved to try for the Conrad hockey team. Stepping up to Langton, who was captain of the hockey team, he announced his intention of trying to make the five.

Dutchy got his skates, which were ones he had bought in Amsterdam, and joined the group of skaters, who greeted him warmly. Then he entered enthusiastically into the sport, and soon made it evident that he was the fastest skater and most brilliant player in the school. Every one was astonished; from that moment he became a sort of hero in the school and the boys ceased to tease him.

At last the time came for the final trials, before the team was picked. Two sides were formed, with Dutchy and Langton their respective captains. Then for two hours a desperate struggle raged, supported by brilliant playing on both sides. Four of the six goals were made by Dutchy; and he was the first one picked to represent the Conrad High School Hockey Team. This happened two weeks before Christmas, and on that day was to be fought a game for championship with Conrad's old rival, Marston Academy.

“I tell you what, boys,” said Langton, just before the game, “this is not going to be a cinch. In Alexander, that Indian over there, Marston has a ‘crack-a-jack’ of a player. Dutchy, you ’ll have to look out for him.”

“Vell, I vill dry to, but perhaps he hat petter look ownt alsó.”

A great crowd of shivering people had gathered along the banks of the Conrad River Christmas morning to watch the great match. Here and there, throughout the surging mass could be seen the colors of the rival schools—Conrad’s red and white, and Marston’s blue and green.


Dutchy making a goal.


At nine o'clock the two teams skated into their positions, the referee placed the puck in the center, blew his whistle, and the game began. For a time the rubber was kept about in the center of the rinks; then Alexander suddenly came out of the scrimmage with the puck in front of his stick, and, with head low and skates flashing, started for Conrad’s goal. A shout of applause rang out from the Marston supporters. Dutchy sped after him like the wind, but could not overtake him, although the distance between them was but a yard. The Indian was a match for him in speed, and try as hard as he could, Dutchy could not lessen that yard. Nearer and nearer to the goal drew Alexander, and now he prepared to drive the puck behind it. The Marston people were wild with delight and threw their caps into the air in a frenzy of excitement. But suddenly, with a burst of speed, a mighty lunge forward, and a quick thrust of his hockey-stick, Dutchy caught up with Alexander, and secured the puck. In the tussle for it, however, both players tripped or stunbled and sprawled along the ice, and the Conrad goal-tender drove the puck out of danger. How the Conrad rooters shouted for joy! Cheer after cheer arose for Dutchy, but he got up, unmindful of the acclamations from a thousand throats, and joined his team.

Again the game raged about the center, and then it was Langton who started forth from the mêlée with a clear field. Alexander overtook him and captured the puck. Again a ringing cheer arose from the supporters of the blue and green. But Dutchy was equal to the emergency, and after a fierce but short struggle between the two, away the Conrad champion sped, with the whole Marston team at his heels. He rapidly increased the distance between them and him, however, every second nearing the goal. Langton took care of Alexander, and so, With no one near him, Dutchy, with a well-directed drive, sent the puck between the goaltender’s legs. Red and white flags filled the air and the Conrad cheer resounded on every side, ending with “Dutchy! Dutchy! Dutchy!”

The elated members of the Conrad school jumped up and down and waved their hats for joy, while Dutchy, with a flushed face, received the enthusiastic congratulations of his fellow-players. So ended the first half.

In the second half, Marston entered the game with a new energy. Slowly the puck, by a series of splendid plays, was driven toward the goal, then, with a brilliant dash, Alexander darted out from among the surging players and succeeded in making a goal. The score was tied, and now only a short time remained to play.

“We ’ve got to beat them, Dutchy,” said Langton to his friend; “last year they drubbed us, and now we ought to turn the tables. We have got to, that ’s all there is to it.”

“Vell,” replied the Hollander, “dat means much more vork dan pefore, I t’ink.”

Again the game began, and as time went by without either side scoring, it looked as if the game would end in a tie. With grim determination Dutchy played, and seeing his chance for the third time that day, made another of his brilliant plays. Escaping the mêlée, he put his whole strength into his speed and started for the Marston goal. Langton managed to keep up with him, warding off Alexander, now close behind. Then Duchy fell down in a heap on the ice, his skate having struck a twig. A groan burst forth from the spectators, but it
“Dutchy, now the hero of town and school, was carried home on triumphant shoulders.” (See page 204.)
changed to a cheer when Langton was seen with lightning speed continuing with the puck. A little later he drove it for the goal, but the goal-tender struck it squarely with his hockey and sent it far behind Langton.

By this time Dutchy had got up and just in time to stop the sliding rubber and again start for the Marston goal. Instantly he was the center of a fierce, short struggle. How he ever came right through that mass of players without once losing the puck is, and probably why will be, one of the mysteries. But he did it, and desperately, too, he skated for that Marston goal. Langton, with the rest of his team, blocked all their opponents except the dauntless Alexander, who eluded the Conrad players and drew nearer and nearer to Dutchy. The poor fellow was so bruised from his fall and so fatigued that he could not skate so fast as at first. But he was now close to the goal, and slurring around, with a tremendous “whack!” he sent the puck for the second time behind the goal, just before the Indian overtook him. In another minute the game closed.

The scene that followed was simply pandemonium let loose. Dutchy, now the hero of town and school, was carried home on triumphant shoulders and then three times around his own house. Then, after giving all the school yells, plentifully mixed with Datchy’s name, the last one ending with his whole title, Hendrik van Gelder Schmitt, his proud schoolmates left him to himself and departed.